BBS x Reader Oneshots!

21) [Delirious] The Price of a LIfe

A/N: Another one today? Man, I am on a roll! Jk.

Los Santos Verse. Reader is a child! Like, 10 years old.

~.~.~.~

He could be back any minute. I knew that. I couldn't live here anymore, either. He'd kill me. Eventually. The only thing in my heart was anger. He was the reason my mom was gone.

I've gathered as much money as I could, stealing a dollar here, coins there, and tucking them into my pillow case to hide away from him. I've been doing this for months. Hoping, hoping for an end to things.

My heart jumped as I heard a crash from down the hall, the door slamming against the frames, shaking the house. He was home.

Scrambling away from my bed, I hurriedly slip into my closet, closing the doors. His stumbling around the house was still too clear. My heart was pounding in my ears as I shuffle as far away from the light pouring underneath the door.

"(Y/N)!" His voice called out. Anger and malicious intent were laced into his drunken slurs. "Don't make me come look for you!"

Curling into myself to keep, I pull my knees to my chest, biting my thumb to keep quiet.

The bang of my door slamming into the wall makes me jump, my heart picking up, my blood pumping quicker beneath my skin.

"(Y/N), where are you?" the malevolent tone seemed to be growing. I could hear his shuffling, my crashes around the room, until the door of the closet was almost ripped from its hinges. His large figure was standing above me, panting, body leaning heavily on the door frame.

Before I could move, he stumbled towards me, getting a grip on my hair and yanking me from the darkness of the closet. He was yelling things, but I couldn't hear past my panic. Scrambling to try and get away from his grip, panic surged through me at the pain of my scalp and the distress my room was in.

He didn't waste long in yanking me down the hall to the kitchen. I was tossed to the floor like a rag doll.

"How dare you be so ungrateful. Ignore your father when he calls you. Hiding." His words were slurred and I scrambled away from his form, running my shoulder into the counter which caused a red burn.

He grabbed an empty beer bottle, pointing it at me. "Ungrateful. Just like your mother!"

"Please, Stop!" I begged. "You're drunk!"

The glass bottle was thrown in my direction so suddenly, I couldn't react before the bottle was shattering against the tiled floor and shards were scraping into my skin with the brute force.

A scream tore from my throat as force collided into my side, causing me to roll over more glass shards.

His loud cursing reached my ears as he stepped on glass, pulling away and stumbled down towards his own room.

The new silence let my fear enter my system, and I was shaking. I tried not to think about how much pain I was in. It was red hot all over my numb body.

Pulling away from the glass, I wince at the pieces lodged into my skin all over. New pain bloomed from my feet, a gasp and tears pouring from me. Wincing towards the cupboard, I pull out the broom and sweep up the shards as quickly as possible, disposing of the bottle bits in the trash.

I tiptoe down the hall slowly, standing on my toes to avoid putting pressure on the glass in my feet. Stopping before his door, I could hear the snoring on the other side and let out a breath, sneaking into the bathroom to grab the "first aid kit" we had.

Quickly moving on to my own room, I realize just the damage it was in. My bed was tipped over, my dresser shoved to the side, and the closet door barely hanging on. Leaning against the wall beneath my little window, I quickly begin to remove glass shards from all over. After that's done, I open the little tube of antibiotics and squeeze the last of it into my new wounds and wrap my feet in the gauze that's in the old kit. It's the last of it.